


Burn Them Down

by 221blackandwhitestripes



Series: The Sound Of Your Heart [12]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e21 Destiny Calling, Episode: s03e22 Heavydirtysoul, I know, M/M, Season/Series 03, Tetch Virus, Vomiting, infected Jim Gordon, no kissing in this fic, shocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29733270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221blackandwhitestripes/pseuds/221blackandwhitestripes
Summary: “Where’s the logic in that, though?” Something was tugging at Oswald’s chest: A fear greater than himself. “You’re supposed to be data-driven, Ed. Cold.Logistical. Why are you letting your feelings take holdnow?”Ed's frown only frustrated him more.“What’schanged?”
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Fish Mooney, Oswald Cobblepot & Ivy Pepper, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: The Sound Of Your Heart [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1018875
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Burn Them Down

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo glad I got this finished. So glad I was able to make sense of the blurry notes in my head and achieve an actual plot. Yay me!
> 
> Song: [burning bridges](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPMfsWgUB_o) by _Bea Miller_

_I've been lonely, missing your body_  
_You've been out of touch_  
_You're so far away_  
_Wishing you would tell me you're sorry_  
_And you know_  
_You made a big mistake_  
_Close my eyes and try to forget you_  
_Every time I do, I just see your face_  
_After all this shit that we've been through_  
_Why are you so willing to walk away?_  


“Is it cold?”

There was a hand clasped in his – a hand attached to a man of magnetic instability, those brown eyes dancing with treacherous feeling.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Ed pulled him hard and Oswald ran, their pale feet kicking up sand, sending it airborne. Wind brushed through the hair on his arms and legs, making him tingle.

The line between wet sand and dry laid between them, a clear marker between _known_ and _unknown_.

Oswald turned to face him, squinted against the sunlight to see the quirk in Ed’s brow. “I can trust you, Ed. Right?”

Ed took his other hand and clutched them both tight. “Of course.”

Oswald smiled. “Then fuck it!” He took a step onto the wet sand. A chill ran through him. “Um. Isn’t it a bit cold?”

Ed let go of his hands so he could remove his shirt. “It gets warmer further out.”

“Are you sure?” Oswald shielded his eyes as he looked out over the sparkling water. In the distance, he saw icebergs, tall and haunting, like monstrous trees.

“Trust me, Oswald.” Ed took his hand again, pulling gently. “Let’s test the waters.”

Oswald nodded, following him across the frosty wet sand to where the water was rushing to meet it. He began to shiver, drawing the arm not attached to Ed’s into himself, hugging his stomach. “Are you sure about this?” he asked again, a vision of those icebergs haunting him. “Should we really go any further?”

Ed’s hand in his was the only warmth he felt until the man turned those dark brown eyes on him. “You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

“But you will,” Oswald pointed out. “Won’t you?”

Ed shrugged. “I can’t help it. I know that whatever’s out there… it must be _amazing_.” 

“You can’t know that,” he insisted. “You can’t be sure.”

Ed sighed. “Well, you’re right, I’m not _sure_. But… I have faith. I just think it’ll be worth it to try.”

“Where’s the logic in that, though?” Something was tugging at Oswald’s chest: A fear greater than himself. “You’re supposed to be data-driven, Ed. Cold. _Logistical_. Why are you letting your feelings take hold _now_?”

Ed's frown only frustrated him more.

“What’s _changed?_ ” His hands were fists now, the light breeze of the beach kicking up into a swirling gale, grains of sand catching at his eyes, making them water.

Ed didn’t answer the question. Maybe he simply couldn’t. He only held Oswald’s hand tight and pulled him forward. “Please. Just trust me.”

Oswald’s foot touched the water. It was freezing. He let out a scream of agony.

“Just trust me,” Ed repeated. “This is just the worst bit.” He kept walking, their hands still holding each other, and Oswald knew he could _let go_ , but… 

But he didn’t want to. He wanted to see if he was right to trust Ed. Or if this would prove to be the biggest mistake of his life.

The water brushed his ankles now, and he shivered again, huddling next to his partner. “When does it get warmer?” He called over the howling wind.

“Soon,” Ed insisted. “I promise.”

And Ed wasn’t forcing him, but Oswald still felt like he could only step forward. In a way, he wished Ed _was_ forcing him – then he would’ve had an excuse to retreat, break the ties, let go of the warmth of his hand.

But Ed only pushed him gently, and so Oswald willingly stumbled forward, saltwater climbing his legs like ivy. “Warmer soon?” he gasped.

“Soon,” Ed promised, warm voice barely breaking through the high whistles of the wind. “Soon.”

And so Oswald kept going. Kept walking. The water climbed his shins and then his thighs, until he couldn’t move anymore. He was frozen. “I-I-I can’t feel my fingers a-a-anymore.” The digits were blue and shaking, dancing in front of his blurry gaze. “We have to stop.”

“No!” Ed grabbed his hand again, but even that warmth wasn’t enough to thaw him. “We have to keep going. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

“No,” Oswald shook his head, voice quavering. “We have to go back!” He turned away, tried to stumble through the riptide. “We can’t go any further.”

And that should’ve been it. But it wasn't.

“You’re right.” And Ed’s voice had never sounded so miserable. “I didn’t realize it would be so cold out here. I should have listened to you.” His shoulders shook and Oswald realized… he was cold too. He’d just borne it all in the hopes of some place warmer. “We can leave. You were right. There’s nothing for us out there.”

Then that flicker of hope, of _heat_ , of feeling… it died. And Ed’s eyes grew colder than this coast. 

“Shall we?” Ed’s hand slowly tightened around his own, and there was no warmth anymore, just skin, cold and wet and salty.

“No!” Oswald dropped his hand. “No, _you_ were right.”

“Um,” Ed frowned, “No, I wasn’t.”

Oswald rolled his eyes. “What I mean is; we need to have faith. I want to see what you were talking about.”

Ed smiled a small smile, and Oswald could see where it would soon grow. “Alright then.”

So they walked, braving the frost, ignoring the icicles that settled under their chins. Oswald didn’t want to think about that. He just focused on the growing heat in Ed’s hand and the way he leaned into him. Like the two of them some kind of unit or something, something _official_ or something. Something special. Or something.

He didn’t notice when the water reached his nose.

He didn’t notice when his limbs began to thaw.

But he **did** notice that he could _breathe_ here. Despite all appearances and predictions, he could breathe here. 

And Ed was breathing too, bubbles escaping his lips as he first grinned then laughed, eyes squinting in delight.

“It was real!” Oswald shouted, and though he couldn’t be heard, he knew Ed understood. “You were right!”

Under the surface, the water was alive. Schools of fish danced in the pockets of light that reached into the depths below. First small ones, their tails moving like rapidly flapping wings, with so many places to go; then larger ones, with patches and spots and stripes, patterns sparkling down their fins.

“Let’s stay here,” Oswald called and Ed understood that too, helping him over the limpet covered rocks and around the climbing coral to a sandy spot. They sat there, hands still clasped. A group of sea turtles swam by, pulled by the current.

“I like it here,” Ed finally said, and Oswald almost jumped. He hadn’t thought he could hear _anything_ down here, but he could hear him. Only him.

“What do you like about it?” The sea turtles continued their journey, disappearing into the distance.

“It’s peaceful here,” Ed stated. “Far more peaceful than out there.”

“You’re probably right,” Oswald admitted, carefully tracing seaweed lines on Ed’s hand.

“Out there was such a struggle. But here with you… it’s so much easier.” Ed sighed, drawing his knees up to his chin.

Oswald chewed his bottom lip. “But… we have to go back sometime. Right?”

Ed’s left shoulder brushed his as he gave a reluctant shrug. “I suppose so.”

“...One day.”

***

Oswald awoke to a pink post-it stuck to a nightstand he wasn’t used to yet. He laid there for a minute, trying to find his way out of the meandering blurriness of dreamland, back into reality.

But with that came the reminder that reality wasn’t so good anymore. And so to dreamland he longed to return, groaning into his pillow, pulling the covers high over his head. But, alas, it was too late for that. Far too late.

He sat up, brutally scrubbing the dream from his face, and snatched the post-it from the nightstand.

**MASKS ARE NOT PEOPLE**

A message to himself. A reminder.

He’d written notes like this since he was young. “They’re just jealous” and “Don’t trust people who refuse to show you both hands”. Things that made sense to him. Things that told him to be careful. And right now, he needed to be careful.

_Knock! Knock!_

Oswald sat up straighter, pushing the post-it under a book. “What is it?”

“Just me!” Ivy chirped, waltzing in without an invitation. She carried a tray of food in her hands, not seeming to care that the salt shaker had tipped over and contaminated the toast. “–Thought you could use some breakfast.”

“And so you decided to bring it to me.” Oswald crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. The note burned through the book, staring at him. “Why?”

“Well,” Ivy shrugged, attempting a smile, “You know.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t know. I’m not sick or _anything_.” He swallowed. _Or anything._

Ivy scrunched her nose in the way that meant she thought something was wrong but didn’t want to tread on his toes to talk about.

“Seriously,” he reiterated, “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Whatever,” she sighed, placing the tray on his lap, “You can still eat in bed. Who says you have to have a reason.”

Oswald frowned before taking a bite of toast. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re a toddler,” she replied, searching around and dragging his armchair over. It pulled the rug up as she pulled it, and he frowned at the dusty underside.

“You know that chair was over there for a reason.”

“I’m sure it was.” She made no signs of moving. “So. What’s with the new room?”

Oswald set his jaw. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Ivy shrugged, “You changed rooms, didn’t you? The last one belonged to daddy Van Dahl. So what’s special ‘bout this one?”

What was special about this one was that Ed had never slept in here. When he was alive or dead. He’d never rummaged through his things in here, never moaned or sighed in here. Never caused Oswald to forget himself in here.

No negative connotations in here.

“The window doesn’t open all the way,” he said instead, “Better security. Can’t be too careful.”

“Huh,” Ivy stroked her chin in mock-thought, “I wonder who you might be trying to keep out.”

Oswald rolled his eyes. “You, if you’re not careful.” He chomped on his toast as she giggled.

“You better finish that quick,” she suggested, leaning back in the chair. “Fish wants to talk to you. Downstairs.”

“You mean she’s ready for me?” He put down his toast. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

“She is,” Ivy nodded. “But… be careful. Please. Who knows what her plan is? I’m not really sure I trust her.”

“You can trust her. I vouch for her.” Oswald put the tray to one side, crawling out of the covers in search of a shirt and tie.

And Ivy murmured to herself, “That’s what I’m worried about,” quiet as a ghost.

***

“Ah, Oswald. You’re here.” Fish’s hands were clasped, her heterochromic gaze sharp as the pin she’d once stabbed through his hand.

“Yep, I’m here,” he confirmed, trying not to lean on his cane too heavily. It was still sore from… from the incident. “So, what’s the plan? I’m ready and willing to do my part at any time.”

“Good,” Fish drawled, “Because the time is now.” She clicked her fingers and one of her boys appeared. “Bring in Strange.”

“Strange?” Oswald’s chest tightened. “You mean–”

“Hello, Oswald.” Strange’s eyes met his over the rims of his tinged glasses, that smug smile leaking in to poison them.

“You.”

The guard brought him forward, posting him next to Fish. There were cuffs on his wrists, but he hardly seemed _caged_. He puffed his chest out, looking down his nose at the ornaments littered around the room. “What an _interesting_ home you have, Mr. Oswald.”

Oswald clenched his jaw and said nothing, turning to Fish instead. “You brought him here?”

Fish leaned back. “Well, this _is_ our current base of operations and–”

“I don’t want him here,” he snapped. “No exceptions. This is my home. And my family lives here.”

“What family?” Fish raised an eyebrow.

Oswald pursed his lips, fingers twitching with the urge to pull the knife from his cane and use it. But, no. He was past that now. With Fish at least. “If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then–”

“No,” Fish waved her hand flippantly. “You’re right, of course. You’ve lost your mother. It’s only right that you make a new family for yourself, here or elsewhere.”

Oswald nodded, loosening the tight grip he had on his cane in favour of a long, slow exhale. “So. Will you at least explain to me what he’s doing here in the first place?”

“Strange is here to pay me back for his little escapism act.” She tilted her head at him. “Aren’t you?”

“O-of course Miss Mooney.” Strange masked the quiver in his voice with a reassuring smile. “I’m more than happy to play my part in this little… _plan_.”

“And what plan is that?” Oswald sighed. He needed to _sit._ He pulled out a dining chair, plopping himself down.

“My return to Gotham, of course,” Fish purred. “And yours as well.”

“You expect me to share the limelight?” Oswald scoffed. 

“I expect you to listen to me,” she hissed before calming herself and clicking her fingers. The guard pulled out a chair for her and she sat. “I don’t need people to know my power. I’ll know I have it, and that’ll be enough. If that means going along with _your_ plans once in a while, well,” she shrugged one shoulder, puckering her lips, “So be it. Our partnership will be worth the price.”

“There’s more to it, though,” Oswald pointed out. “You can’t expect me to agree to anything until I know what you expect from this ‘partnership’.”

“Very sharp for a man who spent the last two days in bed,” Fish noted. “How is your dear leg, by the way?”

“Just answer the question, Fish,” Oswald snapped. “I know that you _long_ to hold all the reins, but this city has been mine for quite a while and if you wish for us to be on equal terms you **will** show me respect.”

Fish’s eyes pierced like daggers concealed in garters until they softened, her lips curling. “That’s my Penguin.”

“Not yours,” he snarked, “But go on.”

“I want us to be equals,” Fish stipulated, “You working above ground, me below.”

“How so?” 

“You proved your worth when you became Mayor of this city. You’re an asset to officials and villains alike.”

He huffed. “Who says they’re not both?”

Fish smirked. “Of course, there’s no guarantee you’ll be reinstated as Mayor. But that’s not the only thing you can do, is it?” She leaned closer. “You haven’t been sitting around the house for the past few months. I know you. I know you’re up to something.” She spread her fingers purposefully. ”The Penguin wants something and I want him to get it.”

“And where do you come in with all of this?” Oswald questioned, shifting to hook his leg over his knee. “What do you _want_.”

Fish tilted her head, analysing him for a moment. Oswald didn’t look away. 

At last, she spoke. “I want to run the new Court of Owls.”

“Oh.” As ideas go, it certainly seemed like just the sort of thing he expected from her. “Go on.”

“The old court has been massacred. They’ve left behind a gap that I am more than happy to fill.” Fish smiled, twisting a gold ring round and round her finger. “I would operate in the shadows, puppeteering those who are out of your control. Our relationship will, of course, not be common knowledge. Just our little secret.”

_Looking at him, breathing ragged, trying to recage the want that had escaped in the moments before. “It would have to be a secret.”_

Oswald cleared his throat, pushing the memory from his mind. “And you expect everyone to just let that happen?”

“And that, my little penguin, is where _he_ comes in.” She flicked a hand at Strange.

Oswald looked the man up and down, curling his lip. He wouldn’t be needed forever, and once he was disposable, Oswald would take very thorough pleasure in _disposing_ of him.

“The Tetch virus is burning cavities in the city we built _together_ ,” Fish hissed, “We want it gone and so does everyone else. And that’s where our advantage lies.” She leaned back with a satisfied smile. “Strange is the only man who can see it created. And the only one who can see it destroyed.”

Oswald glanced at him. “He has a cure.”

“Well, _has,_ ” Strange drawled, “Is rather _inaccurate_ at this time.”

“Most of it has been destroyed by those bumbling fools at the GCPD,” Fish sighed. “They obviously don’t know value when they see it.”

“Well, you can tell that from their neckties alone,” Oswald remarked, “But what does that mean?”

“We need you to collect the main ingredient, Mr. Cobblepot,” Strange purred.

Oswald pursed his lips, not moving his gaze from Fish. “I’m waiting.”

Fish rolled her eyes. “We need you to collect Jervis Tetch from Arkham.”

“Why me?”He leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got plenty of goons here. Just make them do it.”

Fish pursed her lips. “We need the girl to help us get him out. And she refused to work with anyone else but you.”

Oswald pressed his lips together. “I see. So it’s Ivy you need.” He bit his tongue, scrunching his hand into a fist. “Why not just take the perfume and use it yourself?”

Fish sighed. “I tried that, but it didn’t work.”

“Why not?” He looked her up and down, “Your weird fish blood get in the way?”

Fish rolled her eyes. “Apparently it only works on her. It’s linked to her DNA, or something.”

Oswald rolled his eyes. “She only told you that because she’s loyal to me and wants to be sure I agree with your plan. I assure you, the potion works perfectly well without her.”

“I tried the perfume, Oswald,” Fish repeated sternly. “It didn’t affect any of my guards. It. Doesn’t. Work.”

She was wrong, of course. Oswald had seen the effects of the potion firsthand when he’d used it on… Anyway, he was sure Ivy had tricked her somehow, probably replaced the potion with some regular perfume to convince her that his support was needed. It was the kind of mischief he’d come to expect from the girl.

“No matter,” he sighed. “I’ll take Ivy to Arkham. And I’ll agree to our partnership too.” He shrugged a shoulder. “You in the shadows, me in the sun.”

“Agreed.” Fish nodded, offering her hand. “It’s a deal.”

He nodded, clasping her hand and giving it a firm shake.

“A deal.” 

***

“You can take Bill and Jinx but that’s it. I don’t want you to draw too much attention. That’s what went wrong last time.” She shot a look at Strange and Oswald felt somewhat satisfied to see him chastised.

“I agree: lowkey is the better option,” he conceded, “But I’ll take Dixon. Bill’s too beefy for my taste.” Bill looked down at each of his bulky arms and frowned.

“Whatever,” Fish dismissed, “Call if you need backup.”

Oswald smirked. “I won’t.”

***

“So, do you like my dress?”

Oswald glanced over at her. “Sure.”

“Come, _on_ , Ozzie. This is the first time I’ve been out having fun in weeks!” She whined. “Let me enjoy it.”

Oswald raised his eyebrow. “Sorry if I’m put off by a 13 year old in a low cut dress. Ever heard the phrase ‘dress your age’?”

“Ouch.” Ivy poked his shoulder with a pout. “Not my fault I got all sized-up. Gotta make the most of it though.”

He shook his head. “How far away are we, Jinx?”

“Almost there Mr. C,” she answered, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror. “Ten minutes maybe, if traffic’s good.”

“Right.” Oswald nodded, tapping his fingers against his forearm. It was quiet for a moment. Dauntingly silent. Like an invitation for little nightmares to come out and play.

_Ed’s inhale, the way he relaxed and held him closer._

_“Take Tabitha’s guns and don’t give them.”_

_He’d moved with compulsion, but not robically, or helplessly. He’d whispered, “Sorry,” when he forced Tabitha to the floor._

_And when he’d given Oswald the guns, his eyes had spelled out “HOPE”._

_Like he had faith._

Oswald glanced at the girl beside him. She was the embodiment of “not what she seems”. Her body was a charade, something she used to her advantage. She was a liar. Just like he was. Just like Ed was.

“So.” Oswald dragged his palms down the front of his trousers, leaning back slightly. “Fish seems to believe the potion only works with you.”

And he didn’t miss the way her right leg stiffened. “That is what I told her, yes.” The left corner of her mouth twitched downwards.

Oswald nodded, slowly. She was a twitchy, witchy thing, a girl who fell out of a novel. A girl he trusted. But how much?

“We’re here, Mr. C,” Dixon said, pushing their head into the back. “You got everything?”

“Yes, indeed.” The car slid into a parking space and stopped, Trix pulling the key from the ignition. Oswald turned to Ivy. “You can stay here.”

“W-what?” She lifted her brow.

“I don’t want you mixed up in this, dear.” He tried to meet her eyes, but those pupils kept darting away. “Besides, I can use the perfume without you.” Ivy swallowed. “I’ll just take Trix instead.” Oswald smiled and tilted his head. “Unless you have something to tell me.”

Ivy set her jaw determinedly. “Like what?”

Oswald dropped his smile and she cracked.

“Okay! Okay. But, to be fair, I never actually _said_ it would work when I gave it to you. You just assumed it would.”

“You didn’t correct me!” He blustered. “You let me jump into a lion’s nest with a faulty weapon.”

“You had a _gun_ ,” she scoffed, “You were _fine_.”

“Ivy, I may not be the most honourable man, but I believe in honesty between friends.” He scowled. “A lie of omission is still a _lie_. What would have happened if it didn’t work, hmm? Ed could have killed me!”

Ivy frowned. “But…”

“Ivy!” Oswald hissed. “You can never lie to me about this again. I consider you one of my most trusted companions, but when you–”

“Oswald!” Ivy snapped. “If the potion doesn’t work on you, then why didn’t Ed kill you?”

Oswald closed his mouth. She… didn’t know what she was talking about.

“What happened when you used it?”

He bit his tongue, shaking his head slowly.

“Oswald!”

“I had to hug him,” he sighed, “So he could smell it.”

“And?”

“And he hugged me back.” He pursed his lips. “But that could’ve been because–”

“What else happened?” Ivy insisted. “Did he fight you? Hurt you? Shoot you?”

“He…” Oswald swallowed. “Just did what I said. Like he was resigned to it.”

“And did he _hurt_ you?” Ivy repeated.

“No,” he shook his head, “But–”

_“Ed, I want you to take Barbara and her sad excuse for a partner downstairs to the carpark. Get in your car and never come back.”_

_“You mean ‘come back’ like here, or–”_

_“Ed, I don’t want to see you anymore.”_

_Ed had nodded almost immediately. “Understood.”_

“He didn’t fight it when I told him to leave. He went.” Oswald nodded to himself. “So even if he didn’t hurt me, he still left.”

“Maybe because you _told_ him to leave,” Ivy pointed out. “Tell me; what do you think he’d have done if you told him to stay?”

Oswald blinked at the armrest in front of him, glad that he was sitting for this. “...I don’t know.”

Ivy shrugged. “Maybe you should think about it.”

“Maybe,” and it seemed his voice was somewhat above the surface.

“Anyway!” Ivy popped the door open, “Let’s go bag a Hatter, Pengy!”

“Yep,” Oswald nodded to himself, “Let’s do that.”

***

**GOTHAM CITY POLICE STATION: 13:06 PM**

“Captain?” 

“Come in, Mccloud,” Harvey sighed. He was starting to get real sick of this Captain gig. Hopefully, he’d be able to pawn it off on some other sucker soon. Preferably, tomorrow. He was supposed to be shouting lunch.

“There’s been an incident at the asylum,” Mccloud reported. She shot a tentative glance at Jim who was sitting in the corner. “Sh-should I put Alvarez on it?”

“No, he’s in the cell with the others,” Harvey waved his hand at the cells of the infected. There wasn’t much place to put them all, seeing as there were so many. All of ‘holding was full, as well as the smaller downtown and uptown stations. “I’ll take care of it.” He pointed a finger at Jim. “So will he.”

Jim grunted.

“That’s his _yes_.” Harvey looked at the man. He was hunched over, staring at the floor. Still holding it together, but barely.

“Okay, well,” Mccloud shot another glance at Jim before continuing, “The gist of it is; someone broke Tetch out of Arkham and they want someone to go down there and look at the tape.” She scratched her arm. “I’m sure one of the officers would be fine to–”

“No, no,” Harvey dismissed her. “I’m sick of babysitting. I need some goddamn detective work. Ain’t that right, Jim?”

The lump grunted. He was starting to sound like that Butch character.

He scooped up his jacket before pulling Jim along with him. “Let’s go.”

And downstairs, behind shaking bars, a man pleaded, begged and screamed. “You! You! Please, please, listen to me. The person who punched Jim Gordon wasn’t Edward Nygma! I mean, it wasn’t me! I know it looked like it, but– No, please, wait, LISTEN!” 

“IT WASN’T ME!”

***

**ARKHAM ASYLUM: 13:46 PM**

“They just walked in. None of the other guards stopped ‘em,” The camera operator reported, brushing pastry flakes from his moustache before continuing to rewind the tape. “I saw it all on the cameras and I tried to call ‘em on the radio, but they were all in a kinda trance.” The man shrugged. “Haven’t really snapped outta it yet.”

Harvey frowned. “And when did this happen?”

“About two hours ago. I was on the phone for ages. You lot taking a vacation or som’in?”

“We’re busy saving this city from a rampant virus, actually,” Jim growled.

The security guard paused, leaning subtly closer to Harvey. “Your friend ‘kay, or?”

“He’s fine,” Harvey sighed.

“Well,” the man shrugged, fussing with the controls, “Here’s the clip, anyway. You can see, it’s the girl and her friend with the limp, and they–”

“Penguin,” Jim growled. “Of course he’s behind this.”

Harvey put a hand on the man’s shoulder, reminding him to stay calm. “Can we get the tape of this?”

“Yep. ‘Course.” The guard fiddled around before popping a cassette out for them. 

“Cool.” Harvey took the tape and grabbed Jim’s arm, pulling him outside and through the halls.

“You don’t have to grab me, Harvey,” he growled, shoving him away.

“Hey!” he snapped, “Calm down, okay! You’re freaking everyone out.”

“Penguin’s up to something, Harvey. I know it!”

“He’s _always_ up to something,” he rolled his eyes. “I just need you to calm down so we can figure out _what_.” He opened the car door for his partner before walking around the side and taking the front seat. “You know who could know what’s going on?”

“Who?” Jim granted.

“Nygma.” Harvey turned the key in the ignition. “Those sons of bitches are thick as thieves.” He smoothed his hair back, adjusting his hat. “We start with him.”

Back at the police station, they brought Nygma into the interrogation room, rolling the TV and VHS set in next to him.

“Do you recognise the people on the screen?” Harvey asked, pausing the tape.

Nygma blinked _slowly_. “I-I…” He blinked again. “A-am I going to my hearing?”

Harvey grit his teeth. “Nygma, I want you to tell me what Penguin is doing on that screen there.”

“Right. Of course. Yes.” He nodded quickly, turning to the screen. Then _slowly_ turned his head back. “Did I make bail? Where are my things?”

“Nygma, _listen_ ,” Harvey snapped. “You might just ‘make bail’ if you fucking cooperate with us. Look at the damn screen and explain what the hell is going on.”

“Oh.” Nygma nodded _slowly._ “Okay.” He stared at the screen for a few seconds. “Is Jim gonna hurt me again?”

“Nygma!”

“It’s Oswald,” he finally said, adjusting his glasses calmly. “With Ivy. She’s the approximation of a ward to him. They’re living at the Van Dahl manor along with Bridgit Pike and Victor Fries.”

Harvey took a moment, nodding to himself. Jim grunted softly next to him. “How did they make the guards cooperate?”

“Must have been the potion she mentioned to me.” Nygma tilted his head analytically. “She said it coerced people to do what she wanted. She wanted my opinion on a substance that could assist it in lasting longer.

“Right.” Harvey raised his brows at Jim who scowled back. “And what would Oswald Cobblepot want with Jervis Tetch?”

“Well,” Nygma pursed his lips, adjusting his glasses again. “Oswald tends to make plays for what’s most valuable at any given time. What is one thing that everyone in this city wants? One thing that could buy him _anything?_ ”

Harvey frowned, tapping his pen against the desk. “One thing that could…”

“The antidote,” Jim suddenly ground out. “That’s all anyone cares about anymore.” He shot Harvey a look and he nodded. “We need that antidote.”

Harvey shot a look at Nygma who was examining him with startling clarity. “Thanks for the help, freak. We’ll include it in your sentencing.”

“Fine,” he replied, seemingly unaffected. “But I would prefer I have my hearing sooner rather than later. Arkham’s wet in the Fall.”

Harvey held the door open for Jim and they went out into the hallway. 

“So,” Jim cracked his neck, “The Van Dahl Manor?”

“Hang on, crackhead, think it through first,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. He did _not_ enjoy being the ‘rational’ one. “If that girl is there with her perfume, she’ll be able to control anyone who comes into contact with her. It’s too risky. We need the antidote, but I’m not losing a whole force over this.”

“Then what?”

“We just gotta find a bargaining chip,” Harvey shrugged. “That’s all.”

Slowly, Jim smiled. “I think we already have one.”

Harvey followed his gaze through the window into the interrogation room beside them. “Well, shit.”

***

“Okay, so far, we’ve got people in the Mayor’s office and Judiciary court,” Fish listed. “So that’s another 50 from our stock down.”

Oswald nodded in response. He was trying to pay attention, of course he was, but there was so much shit in his head, crowding out space for decision making and scheming. Fucking Edward Nygma, taking up half his brain. Oswald had thought he’d burnt that bridge for good but that stupid perfume went and doused the flames.

“Can I have one?” Ivy piped up. “My friend Selina lives on the streets. I don’t want her mixed up in this.”

“Selina? The cat girl.” Fish tilted her head. “Is she offering anything?”

Ivy frowned. “She doesn’t have to. She’s my friend.”

“Let Ivy take as much of the antidote as she wants,” Oswald sighed, massaging his forehead. “You wouldn’t have it without her and Strange can always make more.”

Fish tilted her head. “Okay then. Plant girl gets her fair share.” She handed Ivy a few vials which she took gratefully. “What about you, Oswald? Any offers?”

He sighed, massaging his forehead again. “I talked to a journalist I know, as well as a few officials. Got some of the gangs on board. Loyalty offerings, alliances and such.”

Fish tutted. “Make them wait a bit. See if they’ll up the price.”

“Fine.”

 _Why the fuck did Ed do what he fucking said?_ And why the fuck couldn’t he stop thinking about it? UGH. For fuck’s sake.

Oswald shot a pleading look at Ivy. She just shrugged.

Ugh. Why did it matter? Did he _want_ it to matter? Was it still important to him that Ed could care? Wasn’t he done with all this? Didn’t he learn that Ed couldn’t be trusted? The asshole had colluded with the enemy, trying to… to do something. He hadn’t actually ever been clear on what he was trying to do. But he’d certainly hidden the Virus outbreak from him! Even if that was so he could keep them in Star City a little longer.

_Fuck. Fuck fucking shit fuck no._

Oswald was _not_ going to forgive him. Ed was a heartbreaker. A two-faced asshole who wanted to puppeteer him. An untrustworthy low-life. He was done with him. Well and truly.

_Vvvv, vvvv. Vvvv, vvvv._

Oswald wrestled around in his pocket for his phone. “I’ll take this outside.” He stepped into the hallway to answer it. “Hello?”

“Penguin,” the receiver crackled with a growl.

“Sound a bit under the weather there, Jim,” he snorted, “Might need to take a break to reset your equilibrium.”

“We need the antidote. Today.”

“Why so urgent?” he laughed, “Scared that a virus-nut will rob your favourite liquor store?”

“Jesus Christ, Jim, give it here!” Oswald paused as something rustled against the receiver before Detective Bullock’s voice reappeared, clearer this time. “Listen, Penguin. We know you have control of the antidote. We just need a portion of your supply.”

Oswald shrugged before realizing he couldn’t be seen. “What’s in it for us?”

“Us?”

“I’m working with Fish Mooney,” he clarified, “For the time being.”

“Of course you fucking are,” Bullock muttered. “Well, I got nothing of interest for her. But I got something that’ll interest you.”

He snorted. “Like what?”

“Like Edward Nygma.”

Oswald’s smile dropped, hand sliding slightly on the phone before he tightened his grip again. “Who says I’m interested?”

“Look, Oswald, it doesn’t take a fucking Detective to know you’re in love with the so-called ‘Riddler’. We’ve all known since that night at Sirens’ when they celebrated your victory. You were practically humping each other on the stage.”

Oswald scoffed, “We were _not_.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid you’re quite mistaken, _Detective_. I have no interest in ‘purchasing’ Edward from you. It’s not going to happen.”

“Oh.” The receiver crackled. “Okay.”

“Yep,” he popped the ‘P’.

“So, I suppose I’ll just put the papers through on his transfer to Arkham then.”

Oh.

 _Whatever. What is it to me?_ Oswald’s mouth refused to form the words.

“After all, he is a repeated felon. Won’t take much to get a judge’s approval.”

_Arkham Asylum. Edward’s thinning face looking at him in bewilderment. His skin slowly paling to match half the stripes on his clothes._

It… it didn’t matter.

“Might issue him an extra guard or two. Just to keep him under lock and key. He’s a slippery little devil.” Bullock’s chuckle was issued far too loud over the receiver, half deafening him. “But you already know that, don’t–”

“How much?” He swallowed

“Hmm?” Bullock’s veiled attempt at feigned ignorance put a scowl on Oswald’s face.

“How much antidote do you need?”

“20 Vials.”

“I can do 10,” he countered.

“15.”

“10 or I walk,” Oswald snapped. “And you can kiss saving Jim Gordon goodbye.”

Bullock’s voice lost all joviality when he replied. “10 it is.”

“We’ll meet on the docks. I’ll text you the address.” He snapped the phone shut and willed it to stay that way.

Shit. What the fuck was he doing? He didn’t owe Ed anything. He really must enjoy putting himself in shitty situations, ugh.

Oswald shook his head, typing out the address for one of his sheds at the docks and sending it to Jim’s phone.

“ **Oswald?** ” He jumped slightly, looking up to see Ivy standing in the doorway.

“What?”

“Is everything okay?” She leant against the jamb, that needlessly concerned look on her face again.

“Everything’s _fine_ ,” he hissed. “It was the GCPD, they wanted to make a deal for some of the antidote.”

“How much do they want?”

“Just 10,” Oswald dismissed, “It won’t take long.”

“You mean you’re delivering it _now?_ ” She wrinkled her brow.

“It’s not a big deal, Ivy.” He turned, walking down to the coat rack, selecting one.

“Shouldn’t you tell Fish before–”

“It’s a partnership. Not a dictatorship.” He pulled his coat on. “I don’t have to tell her everything.”

“Maybe not.” Ivy’s hand suddenly closed around his wrist. “But you should tell _me_ whatever it is you’re hiding.”

He snarled, pulling away. “I’m not hiding anything. It’s a simple exchange.”

“Of what?” She raised an eyebrow.

Oswald said nothing.

“Just tell me, Oswald! You said friends don’t lie to each other, so just be honest–”

“They’re giving me Ed, okay,” he sighed, resigning himself. “They have him in custody.”

“Oh.” Ivy smiled. “Why didn’t you just say so? This is great news! You’re rescuing him. Real prince charming shit.”

“And _that_ is why I didn’t want to tell you.” Oswald stopped, turning back. “Shit, I forgot the vials.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.” Ivy grinned, sprinting away.

“It doesn’t mean anything!” he called after her. It didn’t, of course. Why would it?

“Okay!” she huffed, lugging a bright green case beside her. “Here you go!”

“I asked for ten vials, not twenty,” he sniffed, looking at the thing.

“There’s padding, dummy, _and_ a syringe.” She rolled her eyes, “Don’t want it breaking and ruining your chances.”

Oswald shot her a sneer as he took the case and walked out to the front door. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m just… doing him a favour.”

“You want to talk to him, don’t you?” She giggled, the incessant child following him down the driveway, “You want to find out about what that moment meant with the perfume.”

He rolled his eyes. “If anything, I want to see him so I can punch him in the nose again.”

Ivy pulled a face. “I didn’t know you were into _that_ shit!”

“Oh god, _shut up_.” Oswald groaned. “Let me go in peace.”

“Who’s gonna drive you?” She put her hands on her hips.

“I’ll drive myself,” he stated, taking the key from the hook to open up the garage.

“Oh my god!” she crowed, following him inside. “You _do_ want to talk to him.”

“No, I don’t,” he snapped, opening up one of the smaller cars.

“Oswald, you hate driving,” she pointed out. “You wouldn’t drive unless you wanted to be alone with him.”

He scowled, slamming the car door shut. He turned the key in the ignition before winding down the window.

“Ivy, you’re wrong. But I must go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah,” she grinned, folding her arms, “Whatever.”

And Oswald tore down the driveway slightly faster than he should’ve.

***

Oswald stayed in his car, watching from across the street for any signs of life.

Of course, he wasn’t _completely_ insane. When he saw Ed again, he could question him. Maybe get some real answers instead of the blurry approximations that were smothering him like ash clouds stuck in his head.

Minutes ticked by. He waited patiently.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

The police car arrived, windows tinted, and Oswald watched closely as Bullock and Gordon climbed out. 

Then Ed appeared. He was stumbling like a puppet with its strings cut. But he was there.

He seemed lost and frightened and Oswald remembered _those desperate mutterings, the way Ed had clung to him on the couch, **sobbing**._

Biting his tongue, he grabbed a gun from the glovebox, making sure it was loaded before he tucked it away in his trousers.

He could do this.

He snatched up the bright green case, checked that the coast was clear, and headed across the street.

***

“P-please no.” Ed’s voice echoed off dripping pipes as Oswald slowly approached from the side door. The group were standing out in the open, guns cocked but not pointed, the perfect image of nonchalance. Oswald didn’t trust it for a moment.

“P-please, I-I–”

Oswald watched for another moment before stepping out of the shadows, swinging the case without a care. “Hello, gentlemen!”

“I’m fine, Oswald.” Ed’s voice was changed, something else. It was shiver-inducing so he looked away.

“Jim, my old friend!” he laughed, “Long time no murder attempt!”

The Detective only grunted, blues eyes darkening to black.

“N-no.” Ed was blinking rapidly, and Oswald watched from the corner of his eye as his expression flickered. “I’m alone.” 

Oswald brushed it off with a chuckle. “And Detective Bullock! Always a pleasure.”

“Yeah, whatever, Penguin,” The man blustered. 

“Did you bring anyone else?” Ed twitch, twitch, twitched. “I was just wondering if I was going to have to reload.”

“Just give us the antidote so we can get out of here,” Bullock demanded.

Oswald blinked. Mustered a smile. “Of course. Business is business.” He approached slowly. Placed the case at their feet. “Ten vials as promised.”

Bullock nodded, grabbing the case. Oswald took the opportunity to look his… _something_ over. “Ed? Can you hear me?”

“I know... you, Oswald.” His voice was robotic and kept cutting out, his eyes blinking and then staring into space. “I-I’ve taken everything from you. Well, almost everything.” The furrow in his brow deepened then smoothed. “You still have your life. But that ends tonight.”

Oswald frowned. “Ed?” Carefully, like the man was a tiger, he laid a hand on Ed’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

The shoulder below his touch jumped and Ed seemed to notice him properly for the first time. “Oh. You’re real!”

_“Oswald?” Hands on his skin, taste on his lips. “Is… that you?”_

_“Yes, Ed,” and he’d been weary, torn between pushing away and pulling closer._

“I’m real.” Oswald nodded, pushing the memory away hastily.

Ed grinned. Then giggled. Then laughed some more, pushing his fingers up under his smeared glasses.

“Ed?”

He swayed back and forth, humming and giggling. “Wait, Oswald’s back?” He suddenly paused, expression sinking, face ghosting.

Oswald chewed his bottom lip. “Um, E–”

Edward Nygma bent over double and threw up on the floor.

Oswald blinked. “Should I be offended or...?”

“Oh shit… he’s a complete embarrassment,” Ed mumbled low and empty, wiping his mouth. “And in front of Oswald too.”

Oswald swallowed, concern bubbling up along with an instinctive need to gag as bright coloured spots floated to the surface of Ed’s vomit.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t swallowed ten boxes worth of medication.” Ed’s hands crawled over his face like spiders. “And that wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t such a fuck-up.”

Oswald felt incredibly cold, gaze slowly sinking down to the vomit on the floor again. Those bright colours? The bleariness in Ed’s eyes? His groans and mumbles?

_Shit._

“What the fuck did you do to him?” He spat it with his eyes closed, trying to block out those colours, _those swirling colours._

“He’s _fine_ ,” Jim grunted.

Bullock looked up from the vials he’d been examining the past minute. “He’s been like this from the moment he punched Jim in the face.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“He punched you in the face?” Oswald laughed, looking to Ed only to find something he didn’t want to see.

Jim stepped forward, those eyes of his dark like alleyways.

“Easy there,” Bullock sighed, pulling him back.

Oswald swallowed. Ed was still muttering to himself, caught up in something that Oswald couldn’t see but knew was terribly, terribly real. “Well…” And he was gentle as he took Ed’s hand because he couldn’t fathom being anything else. “We must be going.”

Bullock snorted. “How do we know if this shit works? We can’t just let you take him.”

Oswald grit his teeth, his patience thinning. “Test it on Jim, why don’t you? He’s a prime lab-specimen, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m not _testing_ it on Ji–”

“You have to test it on someone,” Oswald argued, “And he’s standing right next to you.”

Jim began rolling up his sleeve. “Is there a syringe?”

“Should be one under the packing.”

Jim found it, carefully inserting the vial. Bullock looked on with his tongue between his teeth. Jim inserted the needle into his arm. 

“Hey, Jim, wai–”

Jim pressed down on the plunger.

Oswald tilted his head. “Three, two, one…” he stepped forward to pluck the syringe from Jim’s arm just before he toppled to the floor.

“HEY, HEY, HEY!” Bullock cried, drawing his gun, “What the hell d–”

“Calm down,” Oswald drawled, “He’ll sleep for about 5 minutes and wake up good as new. Now, if you’d allow me.” He carefully steered Ed to face the exit.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

_Click._

It was more than a threat. It was a sign of _disrespect._

Oswald spun on his heel, ignoring the twinge in his knee. “Who the fuck do you–”

_**Bang!** _

“Oh, shit!” a voice squeaked.

Their heads snapped in the direction of the noise and Oswald got a sinking feeling because _he recognised that voice._

There was more banging and scuffling until a sudden ear-piercing screech that sent Oswald’s heart hammering and his hidden gun into his hands.

Little, _can’t-listen-to-a-word-he-says_ , _needlessly-interfering_ **Ivy** was dragged into the light by an officer Oswald didn’t recognise, her kicks and attempts to escape going unacknowledged.

“Mccloud, I thought I told you to stay out of sight!” Ivy suddenly went slack, apparently giving up the fight.

The officer loosened her grip, allowing Ivy to stand. “Sorry Captain, but I caught the girl sneaking in so I pursued.”

Oswald shook his head. “Ivy, what the hell are you doing here?”

“...Ivy?” Bullock’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, Mccloud, you–”

Ivy’s body went from dead to alive, twisting in Mccloud’s arms to pull a bottle from her sleeve, dousing it over her wrist and pressing it to Mccloud’s nose. One hand on the back of her neck. No escape.

“Hi there!” Ivy grinned.

Mccloud melted into her arms.

“Shit Mccloud,” Bullock hissed, dragging a hand through his hair.

Ivy looked into the woman’s eyes, instructing, “Don’t let him shoot us.”

“I swear to _God,_ Mcclou–”

Mccloud’s fist pushed the words back into Bullock’s mouth, making him swallow his tongue.

Ivy laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. Ed shuddered against him, so Oswald pulled him closer, watching Ivy run up and snatch the suitcase. “Thanks a bunch!”

“I’m not going to shoot!” Bullock shouted, gun toppling to the floor, “I’m not going to shoot!”

A hand shot out, grabbing the suitcase in an attempt to pull it from Ivy’s grip – Jim, eyes bleary but face determined.

“Shit!” The contents fell, vials smashing in a percussive wave, the antidote leaking, dribbling, running rampant.

“Ivy!” Oswald’s hand instinctively tightened around Ed’s.

“It’s fine,” she yelped, running to him, “They can’t use it now anyway.”

“What a dumb fucking trick.” But she was right: It didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was getting out alive.

They ran, Oswald getting Ivy to help him pull Ed along, hoping quietly to himself that he was helping more than hurting. He assisted Ed into the back of the car and sat there beside him, letting Ivy drive because fuck licences at this point.

“Where are we going?” she asked, swerving onto the road.

Oswald swallowed. “I know a spot.”

They drove to a pier. To a place Oswald could never forget.

Ed seemed to fall asleep beside him, eyes closed, breathing deep and only interrupted by the occasional mutter. And maybe Oswald was choosing to ignore all the bad shit, but he held his hands and traced lines on his palms.

_While he still could._

“So...” Ivy turned the car off. The engine went quiet. “Did you get the chance to talk to him yet?”

“No. Not yet.”

“But you love him?”

“Yes.” Oswald frowned. “Ivy, what the fuck?”

“What?” She pressed her lips together in the least innocent looking face known to man.

“Did you use your perfume on me?” He felt… off.

“Not on purpose!” she exclaimed, “But some of it may have gotten into your system by accident.”

Oswald groaned, pushing his face into the headrest. “You're lucky that I love _you_ too.” Shit, he hadn't meant to say that either. 

“...You do?”

Oswald opened an eye, peeking at her. It wasn't a woman sitting in that front seat suddenly. Just a little girl. Knee-scrapes and scraping-by, _my daddy isn't very nice_ and loneliness. “Of course I do.”

She wrinkled her nose. “But not in the same way as–” she shot a look at Ed beside him.

“What?” he sputtered, “No!”

“Thank god,” she sighed dramatically, unclipping her seatbelt. “I think I better go for a walk then.”

“O-oh?” He sat up, “You don’t have to.”

“I think I do,” she snorted, opening her door. “Talk to him. As soon as he wakes up.”

Oswald frowned. “Is that an order?”

She sniffed. “Of course.” She closed the door and walked away.

Oswald was left alone with his thoughts and a sleeping sinner beside him.

He tried to remember how angry he’d been last time he saw him. How badly he’d wanted to tear the man apart. But last time he’d been caught up in the heat of the moment, swamped by feelings beyond his control. He’d felt betrayed. Lost. _Alone_. Now, he was just sitting in the back of a car, coming down from a mix of adrenaline and Ivy’s fucked up perfume. Being mad at the man just seemed... _impossible_.

“We can’t both hold on. We can let go. I-It’ll be alright.”

Oswald frowned at Ed’s sleepy mutterings, wondering what he was dreaming about. Hopefully something better than whatever shit he’d been put through the last few days.

An image of those colourful spots in Ed’s vomit floated to the surface of his mind. He quickly shoved it away.

Ed finally stirred beside him, eyelashes fluttering. Oswald held his breath.

“Awake,” he whispered, pushing his fingers up under his glasses, over his eyes, “I’m awake.”

Oswald was pressed for some witty opening line, but none was forthcoming. He just kept… staring. Trying to memorize Ed the way Ed seemed to memorize him.

Ed finally met his eyes. “Oh… hi.”

Oswald tried to smile but found he couldn’t. “Hi.”

“So, uhh…” He glanced around the car, “I guess I’m not going to Arkham, then.”

“Guess not,” Oswald chuckled emptily. 

_So_. This was what he came here for. To ask questions. To get answers. To burn bridges… Until nothing remained.

But now that Oswald had the matches in his hands and the kindling in front of him...

Maybe he could put it off for later? Give them another few months before it all went down for good. It would be rather wondrous. A storm in the heart of Gotham City that everyone would witness. Thunder would clap, Lighting would streak across the sky. The clouds would cry, but not with more anguish or ferocity than them.

Edward Nygma and Oswald Cobblepot. A getaway car to a wondrous oblivion.

Oswald smiled to himself. “Ed–”

“You were right.” And Ed snatched the matches from him.

“I-I usually am,” he swallowed down his words and his wants, “But go on.”

Ed licked his lips. “I kept things from you. I lied. And, clearly,” he chuckled, “I paid the price for it.”

“I suppose that is true...” Oswald bit his tongue. “W-where are you going with this, Ed?”

“Neither of us were happy. At least I wasn’t.” 

At first, Oswald wanted to protest it. But…

But he’d spent the last month torturing himself. Hating himself for loving instead of hating as he tried to hate until love and hate lost distinction in his mind. And maybe he didn’t swallow pills or lose grip on reality. But he set himself up to get hurt. Sabotaged his own happiness. For what?

“First, I hated myself for wanting you,” Ed continued, “Then I hated myself for not being enough for you. Then…” he chuckled “...I just hated myself. It… it wasn’t good.”

Oswald blinked at him. So, he was right. They’d both been feeling this way without either of them saying it.

They were fucking idiots.

“I love you Oswald,” Ed breathed, and it wasn’t the first time he’d said it but it still made Oswald’s heart leap. “But… you were right. We shouldn’t be together.”

Oswald's eyes widened as he watched the man who loved him begin to cry. Now, this hurt the most, more than _betrayal_ and _lies_ and _denial_.

More than a bullet to his chest.

“S-so I want to say sorry.” Ed sniffed. “And ask for a truce. Before either one of us does something neither of us can come back from.”

Oswald sat there and watched the flames lick up the side of the bridge. 

This is what he wanted, right? An ending. This was an ending. He wanted this. He wanted this.

“Of course,” Oswald nodded, “A truce.”

Their hands touched as they shook on it and it was like _lightning_.

... _Shit_.

 _Can't stay away from you, I try, I try_  
_But you got a grip on my mind_  
_I don't know why I stick around to watch you burn our bridges down_  
_I can't help it that I need you ( **need you** )_  
_I can't help it that I need you ( **need you** )_  
_Now I'm drowning underneath the water that was under me_  
_I'm still screaming that I need you ( **need you** )_  
_( **I can't help it that I need you** )_  
_Burn the bridges, burn them down,_  
_Down, down_  
_Down_  
_**Down**_  


**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So, Oswald/Edward is endgame. I just want everyone reading to know that. But Ed/happiness is endgame too. So is Oswald/happiness. And I couldn't in any good conscious believe that now was a good time for these two to 'get together' properly. That will come, believe me, and I have some interesting and rather fluffy ideas. But I'm telling you now; the next part in this series will be Ed's side of what happened at the shed, exposition on Ed's DID/OSDD and then Ed getting to a fucking THERAPIST. Only once that's well and truly underway will I allow these two to approach anything else.
> 
> FOR GOD'S SAKE, I WANT THEM TO BE HEALTHY.
> 
> Thank you for letting this exhausted writer rant <3  
> Please give me a comment. I-I want one.


End file.
